


Growing Up

by VideoStarVCR



Series: MCYT  Oneshots [7]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Projecting so hard rn, M/M, References to Depression, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wilbur and Fundy are having a bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VideoStarVCR/pseuds/VideoStarVCR
Summary: Their bags were packed within the day, and they left. His dad had smiled at him and told him to get ready for an adventure, but Fundy can still remember the way he paused and ran his fingers over the notches in the doorway that proved Fundy was taller, and he smiled.Sad, and soft. Fundy can remember everything about the way his dad carried himself at that moment, and can almost hear the way his voice broke when he told Fundy that he'd grown up so much.He can remember the way his dad wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer like he was keeping him safe from anything that dared to come close, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say this was a goodbye. (After all, this is how it felt when his mom hugged him.)---Aka. A family doesn't get so bad over night, a look into Fundy relationship with Wilbur growing up.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Sally, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot/Sally
Series: MCYT  Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125812
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Growing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Not me deleting this fic by mistake,,, no sir.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the repost!! :]]

Fundy can remember when he was younger. Four or five, and his dad had held his hand and guided him through the forest. Remembers the smell of flowers, and the way his dad didn't hesitate to pick him up when he quietly admitted it was hard to keep up. 

He remembers the feeling of his dad's well-worn sweater, and the warmth of the sun, and being gently woken up. The light had been overwhelming for a moment, and he had twitched his ears in discomfort and squirmed out of his dad's hold. He had landed on his feet and only then had he taken in everything around him.

He was standing in a break in the trees that gave way to an open meadow that seemed to stretch on for miles. (looking back on it, Fundy's almost certain it wasn't that big, but it had felt like an entirely new world at the time.) The grass had come up to his waist and he remembered the way he looked back at his dad, tail moving back and forth, and his dad had smiled and ruffled his hair. Told him that this was their garden and smiled wider when he said it didn't look like a garden.

If Fundy thinks about it, he can remember spending time with his dad in their makeshift garden. The days seemed to bleed together, but he could still hear his father humming, and the feeling of dirt on his hands. Can remember the way his father gently guided him on what to do, and before long it felt like their garden. A place for just the two of them. 

He still has a photo, worn and tattered around the edges. Weathered from years of keeping it on his person.

\---

He remembers the day his mom left. He was eight, and he still remembers it perfectly. Remembers how she hugged him and told him she was proud of him. That she'd miss him. She looked almost sorry as she wrapped her arms around Wilbur, as he held her close and she told his dad to take care, and then she left. 

She never came back. 

\---

They stayed in that run-down cabin for another year. It's Autumn when his mom leaves, but it may as well have been winter. Cold sweeps in from outside, and a draft fills the house and it's awful.

He never fixed it, and neither did his dad, but that's okay because his dad was sick. That is what he would always say. "I'm sorry baby, but I can't right now, I'm sick." 

Fundy's not even mad. It's awful to get sick, and as a kid, the only thing he knew was that his dad was sick, and that's just the way things were, and so things changed. He'd sit on his dad's bed, and listen to him read out loud hours, and then late at night, his dad would run his hands through his tangled hair, and smile down at him, and tell him he was growing up to be the best parts of his mom. 

It's funny how once he starts saying that, Fundy starts to feel sick too. His dad isn't there for him when he feels sick. Doesn't do anything for the cold feeling that seeps into his fur, and into their home.

The feeling lasts well into winter.

\---

He's a bit better when spring comes around. Fundys proud of him. It was hard to watch how it took his dad everything and then some to try, but now it just took everything. 

Maybe it was selfish, but Fundy was more than willing to pretend that things had gone back to normal. So was his dad. So, one day, without any warning, his dad tells him to put his shoes on, and they walk to the garden, and sure, they don't hold hands anymore, but it's fine. At least they're doing something other than rotting in a cold house. 

They go back the next day, and the next, and soon enough they fall into a routine, and Fundy remembers how it all felt. 

\---

Fundy had almost expected the move. It felt familiar. Like a shadow hanging over the household, he could almost feel Mom clinging on to their lives. Suffocating them even as she was miles away. (He wondered to this day if she made her garden. He wondered if she planted irises.)

Their bags were packed within the day, and they left. His dad had smiled at him and told him to get ready for an adventure, but Fundy can still remember the way he paused and ran his fingers over the notches in the doorway that proved Fundy was taller, and he smiled.

Sad, and soft. Fundy can remember everything about the way his dad carried himself at that moment, and can almost hear the way his voice broke when he told Fundy that he'd grown up so much.

Can remember the way his dad wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer like he was keeping him safe from anything that dared to come close, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say this was a goodbye. (After all, this is how it felt when his mom hugged him.)

\---  
It's hard to make in the garden when you don't have a home, so they didn't, and sure, it stung to see the wildflowers growing in between the pavement, but that's just the way things were. 

They moved again and again, and before long the house started to blur together. Fundy's belongings could still be packed in a day, and he was more than willing to accept that that is his life for the foreseeable future. 

His dad didn't seem to be able to understand that. So when they set out to leave yet another home, Fundy sat back and accepted the fact that in a few hours he'd been seeing that resigned look in his dad's eyes, and receiving a hug that felt like goodbye. He members how much of a shock it was, to realize he no longer cared, and from that moment on his dad became Wilbur. 

Wilbur was more of an acquaintance than a father figure. 

They moved seven more times, and if Wilbur noticed the change he didn't say anything. Then it happened. Wilbur had promised that he had found their forever home like he had the last time, and the time before that, and Fundy and just nodded and packed. 

They stayed, and Fundy waited, and waited. They never left. Wilbur sparked to life, and Fundy couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they had been here sooner. Wonders what would have happened if his mom was still there. 

\---

The last time his dad hugged him it had felt like nothing. It was a goodbye 

\---

Fundy's older now, and the rose-colored glasses he wore as a kid had long since faded into obscurity. He didn't blame his mother as much, he couldn't really. Because truth be told his dad was hard to live with and you couldn't build a relationship on irises and I love you's. (He ignores the copper taste in his mouth when he thinks about his own failed marriage, built on even less.)

He's jealous of his younger self in a way. He missed his mom and the way his new name felt. He missed the feeling of the sun shining comfortably down on his fur, and the feeling of content that came with it. 

He missed his dad, and the pride he felt when Wilbur managed to force himself out of bed. The emotion that had come with getting his dad to talk to him. That was okay.

Growing up is easy, the notches on the doorway of a home they'd never go back to laid testimony to that.

Growing is harder. That fact is established in the garden walls and the irises that are there. In the weeds that had yet to grow back between the stones in the path of a city that had been turned to ash. 

Fundy had time. He had his name and some garden walls, and a chance to do something for himself. He'd grown up so much, the only thing left was to grow.


End file.
